


Innocence

by Scarylady



Series: Secret Service [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-31
Updated: 2011-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarylady/pseuds/Scarylady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Two of the Secret Service series:<br/>Following directly on from the end of Patience... the dubious duo and their innocent accomplice plan the remainder of their evening.</p><p>Contains slash, D/s relationships and spank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocence

  
“Much though I would love to continue our little game, I think you should take Alistair into one of the public rooms for a while, my Warden. Allow him to touch and enjoy all kinds of gorgeous bodies.”

“Sounds like fun.” Aedan threw back the remains of his second goblet of wine, keen to be off.

Zevran had been tempted to keep their beautiful new lover here in their private room all night; he was so deliciously obedient, and now they had overcome his Chantry-bred inhibitions about men, the rest of his training would be significantly easier. But Zev was well aware that there were many more inhibitions lurking in that handsome head and Alistair’s terrified face told him that he had made the right choice. Keeping him here, delicately drawing out all that innate passivity, assisting him to blossom into his full potential; it was an extremely alluring proposition. But to do that too soon would make him a delicate plant indeed. He needed to become more robust first, and where better than at an orgy?

“Um… is that really such a good idea? I mean… my face; it’s pretty well-known, right?”

“That is why we wear masks, Alistair _caro_ _mio_. Also, the lights will be dim.” Zevran had no intention of letting him off this hook on such a weak technicality. He watched the man squirm. It seemed Alistair was now perfectly happy to be sprawled naked on a bed with two other nude men, perfectly happy that Zevran’s hand was stroking his hip, and downright terrified at the idea of going into one of the rooms where the flesh of strangers might tangle with his.

Really, this was an excellent notion. 

“And… and women… I mean, how many get pregnant at these parties? I _really_ don’t need any royal bastards running around the country.”

Aedan shook his head, amused. “Maker, no, that’s all covered. All the women drink a potion on arrival. No-one’s going home pregnant.”

 “You and Aedan will go and enjoy some beautiful women and perhaps even a handsome man or two. I shall watch.”  Zevran left the bed, drawing Alistair with him. He stroked a hand gently down that troubled face. “Oh, why do you look at me so, hmm? You have been so very courageous, this will be nothing. It will bring me pleasure to see you savour the freedom that this evening brings. I know that you will be _fantastico,_ and afterwards I shall have a reward for you.”

“I… I _can’t_ , Zev.” Alistair’s face was crumbling into misery, utterly unlike the fearful courage he had brought to their endeavours so far.

Aedan was behind his friend in a flash, rubbing his shoulder. “Then you don’t have to. Don’t worry, I promised you were safe with us, and I meant it. Hey, the whole point is to make you happy, to make us all happy.”

“This is true. We shall throw that plan away; I was a fool to suggest it. But if I may ask; what is the problem?”

Alistair leaned back against Aedan’s broad chest, allowed comforting arms to be wrapped around him. “You won’t laugh?”

It was a little difficult to deny the possibility, when Aedan was laughing already, just at the question. However the deep rumble was not malicious and his arms tightened around his friend. “Cross my heart.”

There was a floodtide of embarrassed colour in Alistair’s face, he pulled out of Aedan’s embrace and walked around the room, for the simple purpose of not having to look at either of them. “I… don’t really know how to please a woman. My wife… I mean, she’s pregnant, but…”

“But she has not encouraged you to seek or provide any enjoyment.” Zevran’s voice was carefully neutral, avoiding judgement.  After all, why would he judge? He had seen this man demonstrate incredible sensuality only a short time ago; there was nothing wrong with him other than inexperience. “This is a tragedy, _c_ _aro mio_ , but one that we can easily fix. How would it be if we invited one of the lovely ladies into this room? She will be a fortunate woman to receive so much attention, and you can learn from us, just as you did earlier.”

Now Aedan’s laugh rang out. “One between three? She might die of so much pleasure.” Alistair’s mouth curved up in response, and Zevran relaxed, happy that the solution was so simple. He made a note to be more careful, to be even more patient, in future; he had underestimated quite how innocent this beautiful man actually was.

While Aedan scooted out of the room to select a suitable and willing woman from among their guests, Zevran set about soothing Alistair into a more suitable frame of mind. He selected from a trunk a mask, rather larger than the little strip of velvet and silk that Alistair had been wearing earlier.

“Come, _mio dolce_ , I shall sit in this chair, and you shall sit here at my feet. This way, when the lady arrives, she will know that I am your _padrone_ , and she will not find it strange when you follow my instructions on how to please her.” Zevran selected an armchair, near the flickering fire, where Alistair’s face would be a little obscured, and pointed to a spot before it. “Kneel here, like so. _Buono_ , that is good.”

He stroked the short hair and soft nape of the man knelt at his feet, feeling the tension go out of him. The mere act of obedience seemed to relax Alistair, allowing him to simply be, to enjoy without stress. Really, it was a marvellous gift to find such a thing, and in such a one. He slipped the mask over the King’s too-well-known face, a simple mask of velvet-lined leather moulded to fit over the bridge of the nose and cheekbones, as well as around the eyes. 

“Now you appear as a handsome brigand ready to plunder the treasure brought before us.” Zevran skilfully kneaded tight muscles in shoulder and back, noting how the more Alistair relaxed, the more his cock began to stir. “She will be fortunate indeed to receive you, and we will all enjoy the cries of pleasure you shall draw from her.”

The click of the door produced a slight stiffening of those broad shoulders, and a flush of colour below the mask. Aedan entered first, his face alight with mischief. “You’ll never guess who I found, Zev; newly arrived, and keen to play.” 

The woman who entered the room behind him was a brunette, curvy and muscular. Like Zevran, she wore her nakedness like armour, demonstrating no vulnerability at all. Her gaze swept the room and a smile curved her mouth. “Zevran, still as handsome as ever, I see,” her words were for the assassin, but her eyes were on the man knelt at his feet, “and just as lucky, too. Your new plaything looks good enough to eat.”

Zevran hid a sigh. Trust Aedan to find someone complicated. “Isabella, you look ravishing as always.”

 

 _  
-oOo-   
_

 

Isabella. He’d met her before, was sure of it.  _Damn it Aedan, if you’ve brought someone who can recognise me_ …

The woman, Isabella, stood directly in front of where Alistair knelt, and for the first time in hours he was enormously conscious of his nakedness. Her scrutiny burned through him like a hot knife, while her own nude body, all flaring hips and full breasts, was having a noticeable effect upon him. Her lips curved into a smile as his cock rose before her eyes. The fact that he was knelt at her feet wasn’t helping at all and he swallowed hard, trying to look anywhere except directly ahead. It was a relief, therefore, when she moved to his side, still watching him, still admiring, but not with her… well… not directly in his vision.

It suddenly hit him where he knew her from; the Pearl, the ship’s captain Zev and Aedan had gone off with one day. They had asked him if he wanted to go along, and like an idiot, he’d refused. Everything comes around again eventually, it seems.

Her mocking voice came from his side. “No restraints at all and barely a mark on him? You’re getting soft in your old age, Zevran.”

Behind Alistair’s shoulder, the voice of his _padrone_ was faintly amused. “My aim is to train, not to break.  He is fresh and new, and I didn’t give you permission to touch him, Isabella.” The sudden steel in that soft voice made him shiver, and in the corner of his eye Alistair saw her hand pause halfway to his face. He heard Aedan’s deep chuckle.

“Oh? And what role do you expect me to play in your little game, Zevran? You think I’m going to kneel at your feet too?”

“It’s an intriguing idea, but no, I think not.”

“Damn right, I’m not.” Her forcefulness seemed out of place in this room, where even Aedan had deferred to the _padrone_.

Zevran’s hand was on Alistair’s hair, once again stroking, with a touch of possessiveness. “Your defiance is not to my taste, dear Isabella, but Aedan would no doubt enjoy schooling you, if that is your desire.”

“Ha! I’d like to see him try.”

“Is that right?” The deep rumble sounded vastly entertained, and Alistair risked a peep to his right, where Aedan now stood behind Isabella, one hand on her hip and the other combing through her hair. “I’d be happy to oblige, Bella, and I have no doubts of being able to master you here as handily as I do with a blade. But we need a certain measure of compliance tonight. As you know, I wanted a woman who was willing to be a reward for Zev’s new toy. If you’re going to fight me on that, you’re no use to us.”

Despite the huge, broad, muscular man towering over her, Isabella held her ground. “You don’t use a blade, Warden; you beat people to death with a six foot metal bar. It barely has an _edge_.   As for Zev’s plaything, he’s gorgeous; I’m game to play with him all night if you wish. But if you want any more _compliance_ from me than that, then you’ll have to take it.”

Aedan coiled her hair around his fingers and kissed her bared nape. “My title is ‘Warden Commander’, Bella, but for this evening ‘my lord’ will be more suitable.” His deep voice, usually so good-humoured, had an edge to it that Alistair hadn’t heard before, and he saw Isabella shiver slightly and her nipples peaked. “It’s time to see if you walk as well as you talk. Pick a word, _if_ you’re playing.”

There was a tiny pause, and for a moment Alistair thought Isabella was going to refuse.

“Siren.”

Aedan’s hand tightened hard in her hair and shoved her to her knees as Zevran’s honeyed voice purred from the chair behind them, “Marvellous, this will be _marvellous_.”

 “Let us begin.” Zevran rose from his chair, his hand on Alistair’s nape, guiding him to his feet. “As Isabella’s mouth seems to be her strongest asset, may I borrow it, my Warden?  _Alain_ deserves a little treat for his patience, I think.”

There was very slight emphasis on the name, and Aedan nodded. “Of course, Zev, you may use her as you will.” The Warden’s hand was wound tightly in Isabella’s hair, unlike Zevran’s soft touch on his neck, and Alistair recalled Zev saying that Aedan was too harsh a _padrone_ for a beginner. He hoped Isabella knew what she was getting herself into.

“Stand here,  _caro mio_. Aedan will bring her to us.”

“Yes, _padrone_.” It was the first time Alistair had said it, and it brought a strange thrill, a tightening and a heat all of its own. For a moment he just wished Aedan and Isabella would leave, so that he could be alone with his _padrone_ , and serve him however he wished. It was a queer, unexpected feeling that made him in equal parts excited and uneasy. Alistair obediently stood where Zevran indicated, feeling the air move behind him as the assassin retreated, and watched as Aedan led Isabella over to him. He did not permit her to rise from her knees, still controlling her with a hand wrapped in her hair, and rather than shuffle forward she chose instead to crawl with all the grace of a predatory animal.

Being stalked by someone who was held on a tight leash was quite disturbing, and yet - knowing what ‘treat’ was probably to come - Alistair’s body responded to her approach, his cock hardening further and his hips tipping forward slightly towards that full-lipped mouth. Despite her position, there was no surrender in her movements, and her face, turned up to Alistair as she slunk towards him, was still mocking. 

Still on all fours, and still with Aedan’s controlling hand in her hair, Isabella’s prowling approach ended at Alistair’s feet.  He expected that Aedan would draw her up by her hair, or that he would command her to sit up and take him in her mouth, but instead the Warden uttered a single word. 

“Stop.” She halted instantly and when she tried to turn, to see what he was doing, he tightened his grip further, holding her face-forward.  “Zevran, I apologise, but your protégé will have to wait.” Aedan’s voice was courteous, a touch cold, just one colleague to another. “Bella is too tense, she needs loosening up a little.”

“I would agree, my Warden. What do you require?” Zevran moved into the corner of Alistair’s vision, a number of implements in his hands. 

“That one.” Aedan pointed at one of the items spread across Zev’s palms; he took it and gave it an experimental swish. Alistair swallowed, a shiver running down his spine. It was a flat hard oval of leather, with a long handle; a paddle, and one that could be wielded on a crouching body by a standing person. Aedan picked a pair of short leather bracers, little more than cuffs, from the pile in Zev’s hands and threw them down in front of Isabella. “Put these on.”

She ignored them, continuing to look up at Alistair with that same mocking gleam in her eyes. She barely flinched as the paddle cracked down hard on her bare arse. “Put them on.” Isabella neither moved, nor even blinked. Aedan didn’t ask again, but proceeded to spank her hard and fast with the paddle, each blow landing with a loud crack. 

It was a shocking revelation for Alistair. There was a naked woman crouched at his feet, receiving a hard spanking, with a paddle, from his best friend, who currently looked remote in a way he’d never seen before. Whereas Zevran’s attentions to him had been warm and caring, this process appeared chilly, uninvolved, and yet Aedan’s cock was rock hard.   Alistair was a little embarrassed to realise that Aedan was not the only one.  Each crack of the paddle flushed heat through him, and his hips jerked in time with the rhythm.  He felt Zevran’s hand on his back, stroking gently, trailing down to cup his cheeks and he shivered slightly, pushing back against that warm palm, feeling an aching desire.

As for Isabella, the mocking smile became a little twisted after a while, and the challenge in her eyes was hidden by closed lids. Only when he drew a sound from her did Aedan pause, seeming to observe her posture, her attitude. He reached down to rub a hand over her heated bottom, seeming almost clinical in his detachment. Apparently not satisfied with the results, he continued to paddle her, and Alistair watched in awe as the mockery in her face melted away until finally she held her lip between her teeth, and groaned as each blow landed. Her head drooped, and Aedan released her hair as the fight went out of her. The rigidity of her posture also dissolved, until she was lifting her bottom for the paddle, flinching from each spank and then lifting again for the next. 

Finally, the paddle was stilled, and Aedan once again reached down, this time drawing a single nail gently over her burning rump. She flinched and whimpered, and he nodded, satisfied. “Put the cuffs on, Bella.” This time she complied, hands shaking slightly. He set aside the long-handled paddle and drew her hands behind her, lacing the cuffs together, and drawing her up to sit back on her heels. 

Alistair fought the urge to look away when Aedan’s dark eyes raised to his, unsure how he felt about this side of his friend, but all the Warden said was, “She’s all yours, Zevran. I’m sorry about the delay; she’s stubborn, as you see.”

“It’s perfectly alright, my Warden. I think they both benefited from the lesson, no?”

 _No shit. The lesson for today is: stick like glue to Zevran, because Aedan is far too scary._

Alistair stopped that thought and reminded himself; Isabella had a word, just as he did. If she had wished it to end, she had that power. Chilling though Aedan’s remote aspect was, he had no doubt whatsoever that his friend would stop instantly, providing hugs and comfort, if _either_ of them decided enough was enough. He also wondered how Zevran would have dealt with Isabella’s mocking challenge; he suspected that the warm consideration he had received from his _padrone_ would melt like the morning mist in the face of such behaviour. He had little doubt that Zevran could make Aedan look like a pussycat, if he chose.

“Isabella, I am pleased to see how beautifully soft this little spanking has made you.  _C_ _aro mio_  Alain has been waiting patiently for your mouth while you flaunted your defiance. Do not make him wait longer, or I too will lose patience with you.” Zevran’s voice was still soft, still gentle, but Alistair drew a quivering breath, hearing the undertone of menace in that final statement.  _A pussycat indeed._

It seemed Isabella heard it too, as she made no demur, and showed no fight. As she licked the first stripe up Alistair’s cock, he looked down into her eyes and saw how dreamy they were, how different than previously. With her hands held firmly behind her by the cuffs, she must reach for him purely with her mouth, while her burning bottom pressed against her heels. This was the very first time Alistair had received a woman’s mouth on him, and only the second time from anyone. The silken heat was incredible, and he was so _hard_ from the exhibition he had watched. While Bella’s tongue swirled over him, one of Zevran’s hands snaked around his belly, holding him in place so that he couldn’t thrust, or move, at all. He felt the other slid down his spine and between his cheeks, rubbing gently at the tight little ring of muscles. The shock of it made his hips jolt. No-one had ever touched him there.

That honeyed voice murmured near his ear, making him shiver. “You must hold still, _mio dolce_. Show Isabella how obedient and disciplined you can be.” The hand on Alistair’s stomach withdrew, leaving him to control his movement for himself. Maker, it was difficult. As soon as she knew he was being challenged, Isabella picked up the pace, drawing long and deep on his cock. The urge to move his hips was nearly irresistible, and he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting it. Her mouth withdrew somewhat, no longer pushing him so hard, and he opened his eyes to find Aedan’s hand once again in her hair, restraining her. Alistair barely had time to be thankful for that before receiving another shock. 

The gentle finger on Alistair’s anus was replaced with soft wetness, the touch of a mouth. Fingers held his cheeks apart, a tongue pressed into him. Zevran was challenging him anew, and he desperately tried to hold still, caught between two hot mouths, two wet tongues, each pulling him in a different direction. Alistair had his lip caught between his teeth; his eyes once again screwed shut, trying hard to focus all his attention on not moving. 

Isabella pulled away further, led by Aedan’s grip on her hair, until she was only able to lick his tip. Alistair desperately wanted more, but tried, _really tried_ , not to follow her, to remain still as he had been commanded. Every nerve ending was alive; every touch upon him was magnified. Just when he didn’t think he could bear it any longer, that he must plunge forward into her mouth, or push back to receive more of that clever tongue, that he must do something, _anything_ , Alistair heard behind him the snap of his _padrone’s_ fingers. There was a moment of panic, of wondering what the signal meant, what he should do, and then Isabella’s mouth engulfed him fully, Aedan having let go of her hair. Zevran was still fully occupied behind him, so it was Aedan’s deep rumble he heard, saying, “You may move.”

 _Thank the Maker_. A grateful sob escaped him; released from his obedience, Alistair allowed his hips to lead him forwards, trying to avoid thrusting hard into Isabella’s mouth, but at least able to demonstrate the rising tide of response. She began to suck hard and deeply on him, rubbing her tongue against the ridge of the head, and Zevran’s tongue was replaced with a finger which slid in and _curled_. The deluge roared over Alistair, drowning him in sensation, so that the mere act of standing felt impossible, his legs shaking so badly he thought he would fall. He jetted hard into that hot mouth, feeling her suck it down without hesitation, only dimly aware that he was crying out loudly, incoherently, as he clenched around Zevran’s disturbing, invasive finger.

Alistair’s awareness returned to the approving voice of his _padrone_ , and the feeling of Zevran’s soft kiss upon his cheek. “Is he not obedient, does he not try his very hardest to please?”

Aedan was releasing Isabella’s wrists, rubbing her arms, murmuring compliments on her performance, but at this he looked up. “It’s quite incredible, Zev. No-one would believe this was his first night.”

“Now that he is no longer focussed on his own desire, we shall put him through his paces, as we planned. My Warden, if you could arrange Isabella on the bed, please?”

Aedan didn’t even bother to command her. Instead he picked up the paddle and pointed, applying brisk little spanks to her hot bottom that chased her across the room as she scampered on hands and knees to the bed. Once there, he turned her onto her back and slid leather thong through the rings on her cuffs, tying it firmly to the bed posts. “Do you want her legs restrained, Zev?”

“I think not. She promised compliance for this, and I have no reason to doubt her.” Zevran’s hand was once again on Alistair’s nape, leading him forwards. His legs still shook so much, that the prospect of collapsing on the bed was a welcome one. “Now, _mio caro_ , you shall do only what I tell you, yes? You shall be my hands and mouth to bring incredible pleasure to Isabella.”

How does it feel to be Zevran’s puppet, beautiful?” Isabella’s tone was once again mocking, as though her stinging rump and manacled hands didn’t exist. 

Aedan leaned over and pinched her nipples tightly enough to make her gasp. “Bella, you know that there are lots of things I can do to you that won’t affect Zev’s plan one iota.” His voice was entirely conversational; he could just as easily have been discussing the weather. “If you’d like me to select a few, all you have to do is speak without permission again.”

Zevran’s voice was unusually cold. “My Warden is perfectly correct. The only noises I want to hear from you, dear Isabella, are cries of pleasure. If you attempt to undermine Alain just once more, then I will settle for merely hearing you cry, and then we will find a more grateful recipient for his attentions.”

“May I answer her, _padrone_?”

There was a surprised silence; obviously no-one had expected Alistair to chime in, and certainly not in this manner. Zevran looked into Alistair’s eyes, and what he found there seemed to reassure him. He nodded. “You have my permission.” 

Alistair was well aware that Zev’s response had been an attempt to protect him, and it made him feel warm and cared for, but a man didn’t spend five years at Court without being able to stand a few jibes and also learning how to prevent any more from hitting the mark. He moved to the head of the bed, so that he could look down directly into Isabella’s eyes, the leather mask a comforting level of anonymity for the Ferelden King. He bent over so that his face was directly above hers, as Aedan moved back out of his way. “You asked me how it feels to be Zevran’s puppet, Isabella. I’ll tell you.” Alistair’s voice rang with sincerity. “It feels better than anything else in my entire life.” 

 

 _  
-oOo-   
_

 

There was a stunned silence following Alistair’s pronouncement. Zev could feel Aedan’s eyes on him and he fought to keep his face impassive. He tried to speak, to pass lightly over it, and to provide the instructions necessary to begin the game, but the lump in his throat prevented it. With astonishing poise, Alistair calmly walked back to Zevran and knelt at his side. There was something almost disturbing in how serene he was, how easily he wore this role. It was ringing faint alarm bells in Zev’s mind, but they were drowned by the surge of pride and-

Pride, only pride. Oh, and admiration, of course. Naturally. Zev ignored Isabella’s knowing look and combed his fingers into Alistair’s hair, pulling his head back. He kissed the upturned mouth hard, plundering it, owning it, biting on the full, sensuous lower lip.  The act was reassuring, a reward for a good boy, no more.

“Now, it is my wish that you go to Isabella and run your hands over all her body. Get to know her curves, her skin, feel when she moves for you and how.”

He watched as Alistair regained his feet in one smooth, strong movement. Heavy muscle moved under golden skin as he climbed onto the bed, moving to lie at the side of the curvy beauty. He passed a tentative hand over her ribs, lengthened by the stretch of her arms above her head. Isabella has her head turned towards him, watching, and suddenly Aedan shook his head and pursed his lips.

“A refinement, if you’ll permit me, Zev. She’ll feel it better if she can’t see.”

“An excellent suggestion. Please do.”

Aedan selected a strip of thick cloth from the heap of items Zev had dropped on a nearby table and bound it around the woman’s eyes. Now satisfied with the arrangement, he dropped into a chair to watch. “Continue.”

The difference was immediate; when Alistair’s hand skimmed from her throat, down between her breasts to her belly, she lifted to meet it, squirming in the restraints. Aedan hummed approval and Zevran smiled at how Alistair picked up confidence, sweeping his hand back up to her breast and hovering with the palm touching her nipple. She tried to press against it and instantly it was moved, teasingly circling the other breast. 

“Yes, _buono_ , but do not neglect the rest of her body. A woman is more than merely the obvious. Touch her everywhere, softly and harshly; stroke her freely, using both fingertips and palms.” Zevran prowled around the bed, observing closely, more interested in Alistair’s small increases in confidence than in Isabella’s reactions. The assassin knew well enough what pleasures would make the ship’s captain squirm, and pant, and even scream; this was about ensuring that Alistair need never fear touching a woman again.

There was one thing that was particularly pleasing to Zevran. If, a few hours ago, they had suggested to Alistair that he pleasure a woman with the two of them watching, their naïve King may well have combusted with embarrassment. Now, he had consented without even a blink. It was delicious to crack open such a mind; to see his inhibitions melt under their tuition.  

Alistair’s hands roamed over Isabella’s body, and under those sword-calloused palms and fingers she writhed, chasing sensation that she couldn’t see, unsure where next they would slide. Her hips were lifting, trying to lure him to where she wanted him, but this was the one place he had not explored. Zevran was satisfied for now to leave it so; he would instruct Alistair in the secrets of that plump entrance in good time.

“Now, my eager pupil, use your mouth to follow those same lines. Kiss and lick over her skin. Feel the difference in her response; how some places respond best to mouth and some to hands.” Over in the chair Aedan was idly fondling himself, not seeking release, but merely enjoying the show. Zevran was hard, the blood surging through his cock, but had no intention of becoming distracted. He had a responsibility; there would be plenty of time for further play once this lesson was ended, and Isabella had left to sample other delights. 

The sight of Alistair’s beautiful body, poised above Isabella’s so that his busy tongue could slip over her skin was a tempting distraction in itself. He was on his hands and knees, muscular rump in the air, no longer blushing from the attention it had received earlier. This would have to be remedied later, for certain; his sweet, obedient boy would respond beautifully to a little careful strapping.

Zevran moved up to the edge of the bed and sat down upon it, lifting Alistair’s head and kissing him again, while Isabella blindly mewled at the loss of his questing mouth on her body. He drew the kiss out, allowing her time to become a little petulant before pulling back slightly. “You see how she needs you now? She mourns your loss, even though you have not yet touched any of her most sensitive parts.” 

Zevran drew one of Alistair’s hands up to a full breast and a peaked nipple. He took one blunt finger in his own slender ones and ran it over the nipple, using it to flick, to scratch gently, to rub. He used the other hand to grasp Alistair’s thumb, and used the thumb and finger he controlled in conjunction; rolling, tweaking, pulling and finally pinching. “See how she responds; every woman is different in this. Some will want only the lightest of touch, and would feel pain from too much. Others will wish you to pull and squeeze, to hold the nipple tightly until they can hardly bear it. Every woman is a new adventure.” 

All the time that he was explaining, he was demonstrating, using Alistair’s own hand and Isabella was whimpering and moaning now, chasing the sensations she liked best, complaining with little sounds when they were replaced. “Now see how she responds to both nipples at once; for some women it will provide twice the pleasure, for others perhaps as much as ten times the pleasure. Or any amount in-between.” Zevran knew full well which kind Isabella was; as Alistair rolled both nipples between his fingers, her back arched off the bed, as she panted out disjointed words, _don’t sto- oh- please-_ and as he pinched and pulled a little she went wild, pulling on her restraints, hips jerking, thighs squeezed together until shudders ran through her. Alistair was hard again; his breathing a shade harsh and, watching as Isabella reached her first orgasm from his protégé’s touch, Zevran almost absent-mindedly stroked that silky erection.

 “Such a climax will not satisfy a woman, but merely arouse her more.” The way Isabella was using her body to entice more touch, squirming and writhing, legs now temptingly separated, supported the Antivan’s claims. Zevran took Alistair’s hand again and led it down between her thighs, “Next we shall explore the very centre of her desire.”

Zevran instructed Alistair to kneel directly between Isabella’s legs, where he would be able to see properly. “Touch all that is visible, stroke her, feel her responses.” Calloused fingers moved hesitantly from mound to lips, delicately stroking while Isabella pulled against her restraints to gain more contact. Zevran allowed the exploration to go on for quite a while, long enough to drive Isabella to desperation; he wanted Alistair’s next touch to cause the maximum impact, to build confidence to the hilt.

“I wish you to gently part those lips with one hand. _Buono_. You see here, where I point? With your other hand, touch her there, gently, it is very sensitive.” This was proven beyond any shadow of a doubt as Alistair’s fingers slowly stroked over Isabella’s clitoris. She bucked, whining in frustration as the restraints held her back, turning her head frantically below the mask, all sensitivity hugely increased by her blindness. Alistair’s awed, indrawn breath, and the confidence with which he touched her further, were enormously satisfying to Zevran. Over in the chair Aedan was murmuring encouragement to him, while still stroking himself slowly.

“You may circle it, flick it, rub it, but do not pinch unless the lady specifically wishes it. This is the most sensitive spot on her whole body. You see how she loves it? You hear how she pleads for more?” Zevran felt torn between the beauty of bringing Alistair to this knowledge, and the memory of his own tuition. The _Corvi_ did not leave such things to chance; sexual competence was one of the skills of a good Crow, and he had been taught to pleasure a woman in a very similar manner, as a young boy. This luxurious room blended in his mind with the dingy training rooms of his youth.

Isabella’s writhing and her incoherent panted words, were reaching a fever pitch. “Stop, withdraw your caresses.” Alistair did as he was bid, and the stream of sounds from Isabella moved to a mix of rich curses and desperate begging. “You see? Now she will do anything you wish in order to gain more of your attentions. Push your finger inside her. She is wet and wanting, you will not hurt her so.”

Alistair’s cock was rock-hard, his breath coming short from the excitement of causing pleasure. Again Zevran reach over and offered him a few gentle caresses, enough only to cause a little reaction, to accustom him to being touched at the will of his _padrone_. “ _Buono_ , and now another finger, yes, that is good.”

“You see here, where I am touching her?” Zevran pressed the tips of two fingers to Isabella’s pubis, while she did her best to fuck Alistair’s fingers. “Press upwards towards here; you feel where the tissue is spongy, yes, _there_. Rub it and keep the pressure on.” There was no doubt about whether Alistair had found the correct spot; Isabella was shuddering in climactic release, bucking hard against his fingers, crying out her relief from the unbearable tension of being their teaching doll.

 “She responds so delightfully, does she not?” Zevran stroked Alistair’s nape and back, his eyes on the powerfully built man who was kneeling between the legs of the tied woman, hearing her cries intensify again as she hit another climax. “Very good, keep the pressure on a little longer, until you feel her relax.”

Aedan unfolded from the chair, and moved over to the edge of the bed, reaching out to stroke Isabella’s damp hair from her forehead. As her cries reduced to whimpers and then ceased, he began to untie her hands. 

Once she was free, Zevran refilled their goblets from the carafe, adding a fourth for Isabella. Now that this game was ended, everyone could relax for a time, and Aedan took the opportunity to hug and kiss the woman he had previously been so cold with, his usual, warm, good humour restored instantly.

Zevran handed her a goblet, “Thank you for your assistance, Isabella. I hope you enjoyed your role?”

She pushed her hair back, and took a gulp from the wine. “It was a pleasure, Zevran. But surely you aren’t ending it here?” She took in the three muscular bodies and straining erections around her on the bed. “It would be cruel to deny me a portion of such bounty.”

“Alas, you will have to think me cruel. I have other plans for this abundant harvest.”

Isabella cocked her head at the assassin, amused. “Ah well, I have an appointment with that delectable blond mage of Aedan’s that I really should keep. He tells me he has some special tricks with magic to show me.” She grasped Aedan’s chin and pulled him down for a kiss before swinging her legs gracefully to the floor. “There are an astonishing number of beautiful Wardens nowadays; I can’t _imagine_ why.”

The Warden Commander swatted her pink rump as she stood and stretched. “Cheeky woman; I hope you aren’t suggesting I pick them for anything other than their fighting skills?”

Isabella regarded Aedan with that familiar mocking gleam. “I wouldn’t dare, Commander. Although I can assure you that, if I hadn’t agreed in advance to _some_ compliance tonight, you would have had to work _far_ harder for mine. Perhaps you’d like a rematch some time?” She looked him up and down. “Or, if you prefer, _I_ can tame _you_.”

“Now that is a challenge I would like to observe _,_ my dearIsabella. My Warden can be somewhat… unruly.”

There was a final kiss for each of them and a small slap to Alistair’s face. “Don’t let Zevran master you too easily, beautiful. You wouldn’t want to bore him, would you?”

 

 _  
-oOo-   
_

 

After the door closed behind her there was a general relaxation. Alistair spoke for the first time in ages. “Thank the Maker for that. It’s a relief not to have to worry about my identity.” He ripped the leather mask off and rubbed his face.

“Oh,” Zevran pouted playfully, “and I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

His face was taken between two sword-calloused hands and kissed gently. “I was,” said Alistair, with great sincerity. It had been mind-blowing actually, to learn to bring such pleasure to a woman and especially in front of others, “but I’d rather be alone with you two; _far_ more relaxing.”

Two brawny arms encircled him from behind, where he was kneeling on the bed, and a kiss was planted on his neck. Alistair could feel Aedan’s erection pressed against his back and he wriggled against it, making his friend hum against his throat. All the fear and apprehension of the early evening was gone; he felt light, liberated, and incredibly horny.

Aedan’s growl summed up Alistair’s own thoughts, “Zev, if you have plans, you’d better start _soon_.”

“Well now, I promised Alistair the enjoyment of a little strapping, did I not? Apart from that I am open to suggestions.”  _That_ caused both a jerk in Alistair’s cock and a flutter in his stomach. Fear and excitement mixed together; he wanted it but he was afraid it would be too much to bear. The want was winning though, hands down. “Are you feeling brave, my Warden?”

Depends what you had in mind.” Aedan’s hands were roaming over Alistair’s chest and hips, and his teeth were nibbling the King’s throat, muffling his words. Alistair tipped his head up in offering, little whimpers escaping him. Daringly he reached behind him, wrapping a hand around Aedan’s erection; though even now it made him blush to do so. The mouth against his throat hissed in response, and a hot tongue swiped up to his ear and bit the lobe.

“I have a surprising amount of confidence in Alistair’s obedience and submission, considering how fresh and untrained he still is. Enough to perhaps have him suck you while he enjoys his strapping.” There was some amusement in Zev’s voice as he added, “I don’t _think_ he’ll bite you.”

The mouth that was doing terribly distracting things to Alistair’s ear chuckled. Aedan’s deep voice murmured, “You wouldn’t bite me, would you? Not even if Zev _is_ making your arse sting like fire.”

Alistair jerked involuntarily at _that_ piece of imagery, and another whimper slipped between his lips. He turned in Aedan’s arms, both of them kneeling on the bed, much as they had earlier when Zevran had taken them both in his mouth. The Warden’s mouth closed over his, and they kissed long and lingeringly, feeling the bed shift as Zevran left for the moment. 

When the assassin returned, he would be the _padrone_ again, but for the moment Alistair was free to do what he wished, to demonstrate the incredible affection he felt for this man, for _both_ these men, who had offered him a priceless gift with open-hearted generosity. He had no illusions; they were obviously enjoying their evening, but they could have done _anything_ tonight, and they had chosen to lavish their time and attention on _him,_ with patience and consideration.

When Alistair heard Zevran’s return he broke the kiss, pressing an additional, gentle one against Aedan’s mouth. “Thank you,” he whispered, smiling broadly, and sat back on his heels to await the _padrone_ ’s will.

 

 _  
-oOo-   
_

 

The strange look on Aedan’s face made Zevran curious; something had passed between the two men while he was getting the items he needed, but he had no idea what. Really, Alistair was turning out to be full of surprises and, despite Isabella’s final warning, _far_ more interesting than anything as commonplace as rebellion.

The sight of him, kneeling placidly, awaiting instruction, made Zevran burn with need and he clamped down hard on his own desire. A good _padrone_ is not led by his lusts; he can wait until the time is right, until other desires have been met. This was one of the more difficult lessons the _Corvi_ taught, and Zevran had learnt it well.

“Let us begin.” Zevran deliberately placed the selected strap on the bed next to Alistair, where he could see it. The man’s eyes instantly went to it and the assassin smiled. It was, as he had promised, suitable for one so inexperienced, and would only hurt a little, but it was quite long and wide. The pain delivered was based not on size, but on weight and stiffness among other things; Alistair, in his innocence, was not to know this.   There would be fear now, enough fear to raise goose bumps, to tighten the throat and dry the mouth; enough to make the nerve-endings sing in anticipation. 

The soft scrape of a nail down Alistair’s spine confirmed this; he caught his breath, over-sensitive nerves reacting instantly. Good. “Bend over, dear Alistair; on your hands and knees, so that your mouth is positioned for my Warden.” Zev’s partner in all things sexual sat back on his heels, a knowing smile hovering on his lips; forcing Alistair to dip his head down further, thus raising his rump higher. Aedan stroked the red-gold hair, holding him away from his erection for the moment. There would be a certain heightening of the fear from this; their sweet innocent had only sucked a man once, earlier in the evening, and not solo. Faced with a man’s thick cock inches from his face, and his bottom exposed for the strap, Alistair would be feeling it now. 

His breathing had changed, becoming fast and a little tremulous, and his erection twitched. Zevran reached under his flat belly to stroke that silken skin, again teaching him to accept touch whenever the _padrone_ wished it. One day soon, there would be restraints and helplessness to enforce the notion that he existed for the will of another. For now though, this waiting, this tension was enough.

 _  
-oOo-   
_

 

Alistair’s breath quivered in his chest. His legs felt weak and his hands gripped the coverlet. Maker, the waiting was the _worst_. And also the best. If Zevran was to so much as blow gently on his arse right now, he swore he’d jump three feet in the air. The scent of Aedan’s desire surrounded him, the presence of another man’s cock so near his mouth still seemed so _wrong_ , and yet he knew that the moment his _padrone_ told him to suck it, he would. 

The soft touches on his erection were a torment which he longed to pursue. If he had to wait here, holding this position - arse offered for the strap, mouth offered for a man’s cock - for much longer, he’d beg, he’d scream, he’d do _anything_ just to break the tension.

And still it seemed his _padrone_ was not ready, not satisfied with the situation. There was the pop of a cork, an exotic scent on the air and slick, warm fingers on his exposed arsehole. “Hold still,  _caro mio_.”

Alistair did his best to comply as oil was massaged into tight, little muscles, as the tip of a finger worked its way in, stretching him gently. The finger probed deeper, careful and expert, before being joined by another. He gasped and jerked, feeling a little discomfort, relaxing as the fingers were withdrawn. His relief was short-lived; something cooler, harder, nudged at that entrance, inexorably sliding in. Alistair’s breath came hard and fast as he did his best to remain still, to relax, and to accept it. Once it was seated, he felt a soft kiss dropped on the fleshy part of his bottom. “Well done.”

The item inserted into Alistair was not large, and yet its weight added to his sense of being out of control. His _padrone_ had wished it, and therefore he had allowed it. Everything was so pure, so simple. So difficult, and yet so bloody _fantastic_. 

Alistair heard the whisper of leather on cloth as Zevran picked up the strap from the bed. Immediately all of his senses leapt back into focus; the roughness of the coverlet under his hands and knees, the scent of Aedan’s cock near his lips, the weight of the plug in his arse. And, most importantly, the circulation of air over the skin of his rump, the movements of his _padrone_ behind him as he got into position.

Despite everything, the first crack of the strap landing on his flesh made him cry out.

The blow was not hard, but the contact was still shocking, and it _stung_ , heat flaring out from the contact point. Alistair flinched at the sting, but the heat was wonderful. While it still spread, the next blow landed, sting and heat now combined.

“Kiss the beautiful cock before you.”

 _Crack._  The strap landed as Alistair obeyed; his lips on the bulbous head while his body jerked in response to the sting and then arched back at the spreading heat.

“Lick up the shaft. Is it not long and thick?”

 _Crack_. Every command was followed by another lick of the strap. The accented voice behind Alistair continued to instruct him, encourage him, in liquid, honeyed tones, while the strap was unrelenting. He licked and kissed and curled his tongue around Aedan’s length as commanded, flinching at each blow, raising his arse for the next and, _oh Maker,_ he didn’t think his own cock had ever been harder.

Before long, when the strap cracked down on his skin it no longer stung, there was just a deep heat and burn that felt incredible, and which melted any remaining inhibitions about the erect organ he was running his mouth over. Alistair wanted to suck it, wanted to hear Aedan groan, but his _padrone_ had not yet given permission. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, sucking up the side of the shaft, tonguing the head, trying to draw the very best response he could.

When the strap stilled, the heat of his skin flared even higher, as though waiting for the opportunity. Zevran’s warm hand running over his burning rump felt cool in comparison and very pleasant. The plug was carefully removed; he felt strangely empty with it gone.

“You may suck him, _mio dolce_ ; I wish to see your mouth around him.”

As Alistair obediently took the head of Aedan’s cock in his mouth, he felt the oiled tip of Zevran’s at his exposed entrance. There was a moment of panic, of flight, swiftly subdued by the hand circling on his back, the flow of encouraging murmurs from his _padrone_. He slid a little more into his mouth, feeling the action mirrored behind him, the ridge of the head slipping through the muscles loosened by the plug.

So much sensation, the slowly diminishing burn on his skin, the taste and feel of the heavy blood-filled cock in his mouth, the hard length slipping into him in infinitesimal little movements. Aedan’s breathing was ragged, rasping in his throat while Zevran’s sounded carefully controlled. Alistair wanted to plunge further down on the hard length, to feel his power over Aedan, but with the careful movements going on behind him he didn’t dare. Instead, he used his tongue to best advantage, rubbing over the ridge and the head, glorying in the responses he pulled from his friend, his gasps and groans, the little jerks of his hips.

Inch by inch Zevran entered him, and inch by inch Alistair slid his mouth down over Aedan’s cock until he was impaled at both ends. That thought shouldn’t, _really shouldn’t_ make his own erection twitch, but it did. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder how the ladies and gentlemen of the Court would react if they could see their King now; arse flaming from the strap, sucking the Warden Commander’s cock while being fucked by an elven assassin. The insane giggle that bubbled up nearly choked him, and he had to retreat up the shaft in order to breath.

Zevran mimicked his action, moving for the first time, a slow withdrawal of half his length. The movement felt expectedly wonderful, as though the assassin’s cock was actually sliding against his. Alistair’s groan triggered a matching one from Aedan, who felt the vibration of his voice strongly, and it also encouraged Zev to move a little more freely. Wanting more, Alistair did what he’d wanted to do for ages; plunged down hard on Aedan, feeling him jerk in response. He couldn’t take it all, and couldn’t use his hands to help, but it had the desired effect. Zev began to slide in and out, over that oh-so-sensitive spot that made his aching cock jump and yearn.

A rhythm was formed, one that took over his mind and his body, blurring everything outside the three of them to an irrelevance. Aedan was going to be first to crack; he’d received small amounts of stimulation over a long period and was already making involuntary little thrusts. If Alistair focussed he could hear the, almost continuous, encouraging murmurs from the man in front of him; broken bits of _feels so good_ , and _wanted you so long_ that spurred him to greater effort. Zevran moving inside him felt _fantastic_ and when Aedan’s cock swelled in his mouth, effectively gagging him so he couldn’t make a sound, Alistair really thought for a moment he would climax untouched, but it was Aedan who spasmed, roaring his release and spurting hot, bitter fluid into Alistair’s mouth.

The instant that Alistair didn’t have to concentrate, the sensation of Zevran fucking him intensified immeasurably.   Being able to express himself properly was an enormous relief and he could hear a stream of broken Antivan mixed with his own groans. After a moment to recover, Aedan dropped a kiss on his damp forehead and dipped beneath him, wriggling into a position where he could get his mouth around Alistair’s aching, needy cock.  _Oh Maker_ , hot, wet, sucking mouth combined with that divine internal rubbing; he was going to come so hard and _soon_. He could hear his own strangled, unintelligible noises, frantic with desire. 

Hips chafing against his burning rump snapped desperately as Zev began to unravel, and the extra friction was too much, too much, too…    _Sweet Andraste_ , mere seconds after Zev slammed forward hard and held there, pumping fluids into him, Alistair reached his own release; his cries of pleasure mixed with the Antivan’s, his twitching cock sucked so strongly and thoroughly he thought he’d never stop coming.

 _  
-oOo-   
_

It was a tired, happy King who returned to the Palace the following morning. He’d slept far longer than usual, sandwiched between his two wicked lovers, and then shared a luxurious soapy bath and large breakfast with them. Aedan was returning to the Keep today, but Zevran had declared his intention to remain in the capital for a few more days. Alistair could still feel his final kiss, see his sensual smile, and hear that honeyed voice promising new pleasures, new challenges. His Chamberlain was going to have to move some appointments around. An unforeseen crisis meant he would be spending a lot of time at the Warden compound this week.

It felt strange to think that a day ago he had been sat in his office with the invitation in his hands, telling himself that he wouldn’t go; that his desires, his needs, were unnatural and should not be indulged.

Well, that man no longer existed. The only thing abnormal about him was how long he’d remained such an innocent. Despite having been married for five years, despite having a child on the way, Alistair felt as though his virginity had been lost last night. No, not lost, _given;_ freely handed over in one glorious moment of abandonment, in the act of saying _yes_. 

 _Yes_ , I will do this; _yes_ , I want it; _yes_ , I trust you.

Life was finally good.


End file.
